


The Art of Teleportation (and the Heart That Beats for You)

by definekimjongdae (junhyung)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - MAMA (Music Video), Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:53:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9340745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junhyung/pseuds/definekimjongdae
Summary: Jongdae is severely confused as to why, in all of their encounters, Jongin always ends up abruptly teleporting somewhere else.





	

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for [kaifectionery](http://kaifectionery.livejournal.com).
> 
> huge thanks to Will for beta-ing and being extra accommodating as always.

“Um. Can I talk to you?”

Jongdae looks up from where he’s just walked out of his Astrophysics 129 class to see Jongin, the teleporting kid with whom he doesn’t hang out on a regular basis but knows anyway because he’s Baekhyun’s friend and Baekhyun knows everyone.

“Sure,” he says.

Jongdae has never really paid attention, but now Jongin looks kind of cute standing there awkwardly with a faint tinge on his cheeks. “Somewhere quieter,” Jongin says, motioning vaguely with his hands.

Usually, it’s pretty easy for Jongdae to guess where a conversation is going, but with this one, he has no idea. They’ve never really talked, and Jongdae’s heard of occasional appalling incidents happening around campus. Then again, Jongin doesn’t look harmful or suspicious in any way, more like a lost puppy trying to make Jongdae help him find his way back home, so he says, “Okay.”

Jongin guides him until they’re at the fairly less crowded area of the physical sciences building.

“I’m Jongin.”

Jongin looks so uncomfortable Jongdae almost extends a hand for him to shake, before he catches himself. “I know.”

Jongin’s eyes widen like he wasn’t expecting that. “Oh,” he mutters in the smallest voice possible.

Jongdae waits as Jongin stares back at him wordlessly. “So,” he prompts with a friendly smile, shifting the weight of his heavy Introduction to Astronomy textbook onto his other arm.

“Uh. Um.” Jongdae has never seen anyone look this jumpy before. Jongin looks like it’d be better if he were anywhere else other than here, standing across Jongdae and looking a second away from skittering away in case Jongdae decides to pull a prank on him.

For a moment, it makes Jongdae forget that he was the one being dragged here.

“I want to tell you something,” Jongin says, finally.

Jongdae is so relieved he blurts out almost immediately, “What is it?”

Jongin blinks. He looks like he’s trying to occupy as small of a space as possible as he fidgets with the hem of his shirt and stares at Jongdae with what might be a cautious look on his face. “I. Uh… I-”

What happens next is not what Jongdae has expected from the many possible outcomes he’s calculated in his head. What happens next is, well, nothing. _Nothing_ happens next as Jongin literally disappears into thin air and Jongdae is left standing alone at one corner of the physical sciences building as one or two people occasionally pass by.

“What happened? Where’d you go?” Jongdae asks to the empty space in front of him. “Huh. Weird,” he shrugs, already turning to make his way back to his room.

Oh, well. Maybe Jongin had suddenly needed to go to the washroom or something. Explains all the fidgeting and whatnot. That happens sometimes. Jongdae isn’t going to judge.

 

-

 

Jongin was ready.

Jongin was almost entirely sure that he was mentally ready to confess his crush to Kim Jongdae, the kid who’s not only good at capturing lightning, but also Jongin’s heart. And Jongin must have forgotten that important fact and got too confident with himself because the moment he was face to face with Jongdae, he was but a gaping aquarium fish, there in the middle of the physical sciences building, standing right in front of the gorgeous Kim Jongdae – the Kim Jongdae that he had wanted to impress but probably weirded out instead. It’s all too overwhelming, the mixed feelings of not wanting to embarrass himself for a second time but also wanting to finally admit his feelings to Jongdae.

So when he sees Jongdae in the crowd, campus celebrity Kim Minseok by one side and waterbender Junmyeon by his other, Jongin instantly stills, heart leaping in his chest as he tightens his grip around Zitao’s arm instinctively. Jongdae smiles one of his extra bright, feline-looking smiles, and the world has never been more beautiful.

“Jongin?” Zitao calls out, a tiny, confused tone to his voice.

Then, “Jongin!” in a much louder, merrier, more melodious sound coming from the other end of the hallway as Jongdae takes notice of Jongin’s presence.

Jongin’s grip around Zitao’s arm only grows tighter as Jongdae _bounds over_ to them, happy strides making Jongin’s heart beat at the same, giddy pace, and when Jongdae’s eyes crinkle in a handsome greeting, Jongin can feel his heart hammering so hard against his chest that he lets his eyes fall shut as they will and ignores Zitao’s irritated plea to let go of his hand, his mind lifting off and twisting and shifting and fleeting through a familiar path-

Jongin opens his eyes to find that he’s in an entirely different place that doesn’t consist of students rushing to classes or Jongdae skipping over to him with a cheerful smile on his perfectly sculpted face. No, they’re in Zitao’s and Yifan’s unit. _They_ because Jongin is still gripping very tightly onto Zitao’s arm, fingers digging presumably a little painfully into the skin underneath, his knuckles going pale in protest. He lets go instantly, muttering an apology to Zitao as Zitao stares bewilderedly at him.

“What the fuck just happened?” Zitao asks, rubbing at his arm. Jongin only feels a little sorry, still feeling slightly out of place.

On the corner is Yifan, buried in a plate of spaghetti with his laptop perched on the table across him, playing a Bob Ross video. Zitao doesn’t wait for Jongin to answer, instead walks over to snatch a meatball from Yifan’s plate, and Jongin can’t seem to rejoice in Zitao getting smacked on the head by Yifan’s dirty fork.

Jongin feels a little silly. Maybe sad, too, and confused, and annoyed. Maybe he’s not quite ready yet, Jongin silently thinks, maybe next time.

 

-

 

Next time comes a little too fast for Jongin’s liking. He’s excused himself from his quantum mechanics class to go to the restroom, when he meets Jongdae just outside of it.

It’s too late when Jongin takes notice of Jongdae, because Jongdae has done it first, eyes crinkling with an acknowledging smile on his face as he walks up to Jongin and Jongin has no choice but to enter the restroom, much like surrendering himself to the police to let them lock him up in jail and then throwing the keys into the ocean. At least that, Jongin reckons, won’t make his heart beat so hard in his chest and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, too dumbstruck to speak.

“Hey, Jongin,” Jongdae greets him, smile curled at the edges and looking as effortlessly perfect as always.

“Hi,” Jongin says, dumbly.

“I didn’t know you’ve got a class in the physical sciences building,” Jongdae comments easily, following Jongin into the restroom.

“Yeah,” Jongin says, awkwardly, before he realises that might not have made much sense, and amends, “Quantum mechanics.”

“Oh, right. Something to do with that teleportation thing of yours, right?” Jongdae guesses, smiling attractively, and, really, Jongin hasn’t thought of anything serious, but he wouldn’t mind waking up to that smile everyday.

“Yeah,” Jongin says, somewhat unnecessarily.

Jongdae goes for the urinal. Jongin realises that he can’t simply urinate _beside_ his crush. That would be suicide.

Jongin motions to the cubicles. “I’m going to use the cubicles,” he says, extremely unnecessarily. Why is he so fucking awkward with words?

Jongdae, thankfully, doesn’t look fazed. “Alright,” he says, then adds, “Oh, and, you had something you wanted to talk about the other day?” Jongin blinks. Right. Fuck. “We can talk about it later, maybe, if you still want to talk about it? Perhaps on the way back to class?” he offers.

Jongin nods. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Alright.” He heads to the cubicles.

 

 

Jongdae waits.

Jongdae waits for around five minutes in the restroom, ignoring passing glances from students using the urinals or cubicles, waits for Jongin to come out.

Jongin doesn’t come out.

“Jongin?” he calls out.

No answer.

Now, Jongdae isn’t the kind of person, _definitely_ not the kind of perverted person, but he can’t possibly be missing lectures just because Jongin has got bowel problems, can he?

Jongdae tries the door knob. It opens.

“Jongin?” he tries again, inching the door open slowly.

Jongdae opens the door to an empty cubicle.

What?

He stands there, confused as fuck, because, seriously, _what_?

It doesn’t make sense. Now that he thinks of it, there hasn’t been any noise coming from the cubicle at all since Jongdae’s waited in front of it. But it doesn’t make sense. If Jongin had gone out of the restroom, he would have told Jongdae, or Jongdae could have heard him walk out. It’s practically impossible to exit the restroom without making even the slightest of sound. It’s-

Oh.

 

-

 

Jongdae isn’t always not bored in Elemental 116, but when he is, it’s mostly because Kyungsoo is sitting right next to him, looking prim and proper in his square glasses and neat haircut, right there for Jongdae to bother and prod because he’s too cute and grumpy to resist.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongdae mutters as softly as he possibly can, dragging out the last syllable and poking Kyungsoo’s squishy cheek, already red with telltale exasperation, with the end of his pen. He vaguely remembers having chewed on it at some point – there’s probably tiny remnant patches of dried saliva on it – but Kyungsoo doesn’t have to know.

Kyungsoo sighs, wide eyes staring at the professor’s powerpoint presentation in full concentration. Jongdae knows too well that it’s all just pretense.

“Do Kyungsoo,” Jongdae singsongs at him, the tip of his pen now dragging down Kyungsoo’s jawline.

“Kim Jongdae.” Kyungsoo breathes in, calmly. “If you being a total little shit ends up bringing my grades down, I swear I’ll shove your hand so high up your ass you won’t be able to electrocute anything else but your butthole, for the rest of your life.”

Jongdae doesn’t doubt Kyungsoo’s capability to make that happen, not at all, but he also finds his extremely composed rage so genuinely satisfying.

“Oh, come on, Kyungsoo. We both know I won’t be the one bringing your grades down.” _You will_. He lets the last bit go unspoken, but the exhale that Kyungsoo lets out is shuddered and Jongdae is proud to be the cause of that.

Kyungsoo may look like a typical straight-A student at first glance, but Jongdae knows better. He’s witness to that one time Baekhyun had sulked over an E he’d received for last year’s semestral elemental exam, and Kyungsoo had told him, “It’s alright. Studying... you don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to. You won’t die if you don’t. You’re fine.” He had one hand resting on Baekhyun’s trembling shoulder, and his other hand holding his own exam results sheet with a D- printed on it.

Kyungsoo sighs, again. “Jongdae-”

“You know Jongin, right?” Jongdae queries, retreating his hand and dropping his pen on his desk. He won’t need it anymore now that he’s got Kyungsoo’s full attention.

Kyungsoo turns, and his wide eyes are now directed at Jongdae instead of the board, face lined with mild confusion. “What’s with Jongin?” he asks, almost carefully.

“Nothing. I mean, well. It’s nothing serious, but-”

“Can you get to the point?”

“Does he,” Jongdae starts, eyeing Kyungsoo hesitantly, before he draws closer at Kyungsoo’s inquiring look. “Does he always, you know, disappear after conversations? Well, mid-conversation, actually. When you’re talking and he just... disappears, I guess.”

Jongdae can’t decide if it’s a good sign, but Kyungsoo’s looking even more confused. “My roommate Kim Jongin?”

“Yeah. Him. I mean, it’s fine if that’s how he likes things, you know," he says, shrugging. “I can understand if he’s more comfortable using his power from time to time. We are all that way, too, anyway. But don’t you think it’s kind of... rude?”

Kyungsoo seems to ponder, for a moment. “How did you know Jongin?” he asks, when he finally opens his mouth to speak, keeping it low because they’re still in class and there’s always the risk of getting caught.

“He approached me to talk. We’ve talked several times now,” Jongdae says. He spots some of the students opening their notebooks. Jongdae flips his open to a fresh page just so the professor thinks he's paying attention.

Kyungsoo’s brows furrow disbelievingly. Jongdae reaches over to open his notebook for him. “ _Jongin_ approached _you_?”

“What’s so wrong about someone approaching _me_?” They’re starting to get a bit loud, so Jongdae scoots closer and lowers his voice some. “Are you trying to say-”

“No, I mean, Jongin doesn’t usually approach someone like that. At least not someone he’s never talked to before. He’s too..." he trails off. There’s a momentary pause before he says, “But he’s a nice kid. Jongin is. He’s not the type to just walk away mid-convo like that. Not Jongin.”

Huh. That’s weird. “Are you sure about that?” Jongdae asks, squinting at Kyungsoo jokingly.

Kyungsoo blinks at him. He looks taken aback, like Jongdae has just said something offensive. “He’s my roommate. I’m pretty sure I know him better than any of you do. And if-”

“Alright, I get it. I was joking,” Jongdae cuts him off, leaning back in his chair. It’s typical Kyungsoo behaviour to be so blunt and serious most of the time, and sometimes Jongdae just wants him to take it easy, have a little fun. He leans in again, nudges Kyungsoo on the elbow. “Hey, want to grab some cold noodles after this?”

The tension is gone from Kyungsoo’s eyes at the mention of food. There’s a twinkle in his eyes as his mouth pulls up into a smile. “We’re bringing Junmyeon along. Or Yifan,” he says, sounding jubilant, even as he keeps his voice low.

“Yifan,” Jongdae decides easily. “We had pork belly with Junmyeon last week.”

Kyungsoo grins, the apple of his cheeks bulged up in mirth. “Yifan it is, then.”

Jongdae grins back in agreement. They both know what bringing Yifan or Junmyeon (or both, if they’re lucky) along means. It means free food, and nobody says no to free food.

 

-

 

The next time they meet again, Jongdae is the first to spot Jongin.

Jongin is at the quadrangle when Jongdae walks out of his Physics 124 class. He barely registers the words Minseok’s saying to him (probably something around the line of, “Can you go get some milk? Junmyeon needs help with his fridge or something so I can’t-”) before he’s bolting toward Jongin, haphazardly shoving his electromagnetism notes into his backpack.

Jongin is standing in the shade across from Chanyeol who’s talking animatedly at Sehun when Jongdae reaches him.

“Oh! Hey, dude!” Chanyeol cuts himself off to greet Jongdae, smacking him on the back and swiftly pulling him in with a lanky arm around his shoulders before ruffling his hair good-naturedly, though, really, it feels more like he’s grazing Jongdae’s scalp with his blunt nails.

Jongdae wriggles himself free from Chanyeol’s tight hug that might also be a deadly headlock as Sehun stares at him in mild amusement and Jongin looks like he’s seconds from teleporting away.

“Hey, Chanyeol. Sehun,” Jongdae says, nodding in greeting. He turns to Jongin.

The thing with people trying to tell you something and then _not_ actually telling it is that, it gets frustrating. It gets extremely, irksomely irritating, and Jongdae wants to _know_.

“So, Jongin,” Jongdae starts. “What about the thing you wanted to tell me the other day?”

“Um.” Jongin shifts on his feet, starts fingering at the hem of his shirt. It actually looks adorable, especially under the brilliant natural lighting of the afternoon sun, and Jongdae takes a step forward to give him a silent encouragement.

Except that seems to scare Jongin off.

The next moment, Jongin is stepping back with eyes so wide it looks like he’s literally one second from teleporting away, and before Jongdae knows, he’s advancing forward to throw himself into Jongin’s arms.

 

 

For all Jongin knows, he might be elevating toward heaven.

That’s the only logical explanation there is to the speed he’s going at right now, blackness all around him except for the occasional light that pops up whenever fragments of his life, in different places he’s been to, flashes before him.

That _might_ just be the only logical explanation, _if_ Jongin were going _upward_. Jongin is not going upward. No, he’s going in all directions possible.

Much like teleportation.

Much like teleportation where blackness envelopes him whenever he goes through a certain teleportation route and random destinations flash before him when he’s going too uncontrollably fast because his heart is beating at lightning speed and he has a mildly terrified Jongdae in his arms.

Or, more specifically, a mildly terrified Jongdae has Jongin in his arms.

A Jongin whose heart is beating extremely fast because Kim Jongdae is _right there_ , _hugging_ him with strong, muscular, lean arms, _so_ close Jongin can smell the faint scent of vanilla from what might be Jongdae’s shampoo.

Fuck, he’s losing control.

“What is happening?” Jongdae screams, grip only tightening around Jongin’s body as Jongin can practically feel his heart racing at the very welcoming warmth enveloping him.

Jongin can’t speak. He can’t possibly speak when his fucking crush is this close, when there’s _actual physical contact_ between him and Jongdae. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

“Jongin, what the fuck is happening?” Jongdae’s grip around Jongin only tightens even further, and Jongin curls his fingers into the front of Jongdae’s shirt tightly as places flash before them – the bubble tea shop Jongin frequents with Sehun and occasionally Zitao, too, the dog salon he brings his dogs to, the main street at Hongdae, the bathroom at his parents’ house, the dance studio Jongin used to go to – and it’s all happening so fast, too fast for Jongin to keep track of all the places he’s involuntarily teleporting them to.

It has never been this bad before.

Jongin’s heart is still racing incredibly fast, the close proximity of Jongdae’s body a huge factor of that, and the fact that Jongdae has his face half buried in Jongin’s neck, soft hair right under Jongin’s nose making sure the vanilla blocks his senses perfectly.

“What’s-”

Jongdae is cut off when something wet, no, _a lot_ of wets drop onto them in a sudden colonial attack from above.

Water.

Water – _water_ – pouring down on Jongin and Jongdae like it’s-

Rain.

It’s _raining_.

“What-” sputters Jongdae into Jongin’s chest as he panics and releases his grip from around Jongin’s body before Jongin can react. Jongdae backs away on impulse, jumping at the sudden, heavy rain pouring onto him, as Jongin reaches out for Jongdae’s shirt because maintaining physical contact is _crucial_.

“Wa-”

 

 

“-it!”

Kyungsoo frowns when Baekhyun pulls away at the sudden, unwelcome sound to jerk his head at the general direction of the intruder and glare at them. Kyungsoo follows his gaze.

“Are you serious?” Baekhyun sighs exasperatedly at Jongin who’s standing there in the middle of the living room with one outstretched hand and a facial expression more dramatic than Junmyeon’s questionable acting skills.

Jongin has drops of water dripping down his fringe. He only lets his arm fall as he takes in the image in front of him, of Baekhyun on top of Kyungsoo on the couch and Kyungsoo’s hands already worming their way under Baekhyun’s shirt.

“What?” Baekhyun inquires curtly at Jongin, leaning away from Kyungsoo and ignoring the whine that Kyungsoo lets out when his hands slip right out of Baekhyun’s shirt.

Jongin wrinkles his nose at the sight before he seems to recall something. “Damn it!” he snaps, kicking the floor and looking agitated, before turning and stomping to his room, still with his shoes on.

“What’s wrong with him?” Baekhyun asks, slipping even further away from Kyungsoo.

If this were some other time, Kyungsoo would worry for Jongin. But right now, he can’t care about anything else other than for Baekhyun to get the fuck back to business and finish what he started. So when Baekhyun turns to him with a questioning look still on his face, Kyungsoo just shakes his head before yanking him back down by the shirt.

 

 

When Jongdae gets back home, he doesn’t have two cartons of milk with him. Instead, he hurriedly unlocks and steps into the unit he shares with Minseok, closing the door behind him and letting the tense seep out of his shoulders as the warmth of their living room seeps in.

“Why are you so… wet?” is Minseok’s confused greeting when he looks up from his book. He doesn’t say anything about the milk, and Jongdae is thankful for that. “It hasn’t been raining. Has it?” Minseok turns to the windows where the curtains are drawn open and the afternoon sun is shining brightly into the room.

Jongdae looks down at his drenched form, clothes entirely wet and clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He drops his backpack on the floor. The first thing he’d done, definitely on impulse, was to hug his bag to his chest to shelter it from the rain, and he’d been lucky that none of his books and papers are wet; he’d checked as soon as he entered the station.

Jongdae brushes his hair back. The strands have dried down a bit by now. “It was raining. In Daejeon,” he tells Minseok, kicking his shoes off.

Minseok has this look on his face when things don’t add up to him. “Why were you in Daejeon?”

“Ask Jongin,” is all Jongdae says as he steps out of the rag and onto the wooden flooring. His socks are wet and gross, leaving behind a trail as he steps forward. He grimaces.

Minseok raises his brows, then. “He still hasn’t told you anything?”

Jongdae sighs, peeling his jacket off. He’s only worn it today since the last wash. What a waste of laundry money. He had to spend an entire week’s worth of transport money on the train back to Seoul, too. So much waste in less than a day.

“Well, I held onto him so he wouldn’t escape again.” _Hugged_ him, really, and Jongin had felt so warm, but Minseok doesn’t have to know the details. “And he started teleporting like crazy. It was all so dizzying so I decided to let go and he was- gone. Just like that.”

Minseok nods to himself. “Figures,” he says, turning back to his book.

“Figures what?” Jongdae pries, searching for answers on Minseok’s expression. It gets him nothing because Minseok has always been good at keeping it all neutral and fair.

Minseok shrugs. “Dunno. I’m a physics major. What would I possibly know that you don’t?”

_A lot_ , Jongdae wants to say. But right now, he’s in no condition to argue, and there isn’t even space for a weighing of options between getting Minseok to talk and getting under the glorious shower.

“Might as well go and ask Lu Han.”

Jongdae has no idea how that has to do with anything. He leaves Minseok alone with his reading and goes for the bathroom.

 

-

 

Jongdae does go to ask Lu Han the next day. He’s spent all night thinking of all the possible things that Jongin has wanted to tell him. It was well past midnight when he fell asleep, and that explains the sleepiness still clouding his head as he walks into the unit Lu Han shares with Yixing that is somehow never locked. It makes things a lot less complicated, so he never asks why.

The two are on the couch playing PES when Jongdae steps in to wedge himself into the narrow space between them.

“Can you help me on something?” Jongdae asks Lu Han when neither of them makes any indications to break away from their game and acknowledge his presence.

Yixing hums, but Lu Han doesn’t say anything until a couple of minutes later when the match ends. “Yeah?” he asks, chucking the controller away and smiling at Jongdae. The controller lands slowly on the coffee table, as if defying gravity.

Yixing is already fiddling with his controller to start on a new match with the computer. “Minseok told me that I can ask for your help on something,” Jongdae says.

“Spill,” Lu Han says, with an encouraging smile on his face, so Jongdae does.

It’s a tight fit in the couch, what with the three of them cramped in a space obviously meant for no more than two, and Jongdae feels so tiny as Yixing occasionally jostles him in all of his excitement. Even as Lu Han shifts to face him mid-explanation, trying his best to listen and be the helpful friend that he is, Jongdae still feels so small.

Usually, it’s worst when he has Elemental 116, because he shares the class with Sehun and Chanyeol, and also Yifan who’s only there for the credit. Sure, Junmyeon and Baekhyun help, and Minseok is just his height, but Minseok is so buff and, yeah, Jongdae has the guns and all, but they never come close to Minseok’s phenomenal ones.

And Jongdae can’t help but think of yesterday. Yesterday was different. Yesterday, Jongdae had felt unusually big in Jongin’s embrace, with his arms wrapped around Jongin’s broad back in a tight hug and Jongin’s hands gripping onto the front of his shirt like a small child despite how tall he is. Jongdae… liked it.

“Of course I can help you,” Lu Han says, grinning widely at him and pulling him from his train of thoughts. Jongdae has always seen Lu Han as a more peaceful version of Chanyeol. Just as cheerful, but a calmer one. He likes Lu Han, and Yixing, too, but that doesn’t change the fact that he still has no idea how Lu Han is going to assist him with anything.

“Okay,” Jongdae says, anyway.

“You see how each of us are required to attend different classes?” Lu Han says. Jongdae nods his head. “You have to attend elemental along with Junmyeon and Chanyeol. Yixing and I don’t because we don’t control elements, right?” Another nod. “But we’re required to take classes like psychology and physiology. You don’t. Why is that?”

This time, Jongdae doesn’t nod. He doesn’t see why he has to bother knowing all of that. After all, he’s always glad to mind his own business. “I don’t know,” he tells Lu Han, truthfully.

“Because it’s the thought that we have to deal with,” Yixing pipes in, still facing the television. Lu Han smiles brilliantly.

Jongdae still feels very much clueless. “I don’t get it.”

Lu Han deserves a sack full of brownie points for being the second most patient person Jongdae has ever met, after Yixing. “Your thought isn’t necessarily involved in power control because it’s all muscle memory. Am I right?”

Jongdae allows himself to ponder, for a moment. “I think.”

“Your body memorizes it all through repeated executions and, after a while, the state of your mind doesn’t really matter anymore, because it’s the condition and movement of your body that counts. It’s not the case for Yixing and I, or Zitao, or Jongin,” Lu Han says. “Us – we control our mind, which in turn determines how our powers are executed. You following?”

Jongdae nods slowly.

“So when your mind is a mess – like, for instance, when you’re scared – no matter how hard you try to control it all, your mind just won’t receive it because it’s focusing on the one important thing. That is, to turn it all around and make you less scared. Kind of like the negative feedback,” Lu Han explains patiently.

“Your heart rate increases to increase blood flow to the muscles and all these endocrinology stuff you don’t have to know,” – thank god – “and your power starts doing things that isn’t your intention. So in short your mind is using your power to make you go as far as possible from the stimuli, a bit like the fight-or-flight response, except the only choice here is to flee. That would most probably be why Jongin’s power went _haywire_ ,” Lu Han finishes, drawing air quotations with his fingers at the final word.

He’s still smiling very brightly, and Jongdae still doesn’t really get it. Okay, maybe he does. A little bit. “So,” he hesitates, “Jongin is scared of me?”

That earns him an amused chuckle from Lu Han. “That’s for you to find out,” he says, telekinetically making the controller travel back to his hands as Yixing quits his current game to start a new match with him.

Jongdae doesn’t get why it always seems like everyone is keeping something away from him and making things difficult. He doesn’t pester Lu Han any further, though. After thanking him and Yixing, Jongdae leaves for home still feeling rather confused and spends the rest of his day thinking of how he can coax Jongin to talk when they meet again.

 

 

Jongin is upset. Upset and confused and lying pathetically on Zitao’s couch as Zitao pats him on the head sympathetically and offers him some of the cold, leftover pizza from the fridge.

“He must think I’m weird,” Jongin sulks, frowning at the coffee table.

“Of course he does,” Zitao says, kindly. “Everyone is weird in one way or another.” Zitao is always so kind. Jongin is still not convinced, because obviously he’s a lot weirder than everybody else, but he appreciates Zitao greatly.

“He must think I’m playing a prank on him,” Jongin murmurs, leaning in and relaxing into the cushion as Zitao runs his fingers through his hair soothingly.

“One thing I’m sure of is that he’s not avoiding you. I would if I got a feeling that someone is trying to play a trick on me.”

“Do you think he hates me?”

“Nah, I don’t think he hates you,” Zitao _coos_. On the television, a baby snake hatches out from its egg.

Jongin would feel sorry for Zitao. They’re at Zitao’s, and Zitao is sitting on the floor while Jongin has the entire couch for himself. Jongin _would_ feel sorry for Zitao, but then again, he isn’t even sure that Zitao has his entire attention on him. He seems more interested with whatever snake documentary is playing on the television. Jongin loves animals and would have cooed at the adorable tiny baby snakes just like Zitao had, but he’s feeling too awful for that right now. He just wants to be pampered.

“Why isn’t Sehun coming?” Jongin asks, pulling himself up only enough to snatch a slice of pizza from the coffee table before flopping back down.

“He’s probably busy styling his hair or applying BB cream,” Zitao answers absentmindedly, dropping his hand from Jongin’s hair and not tearing his gaze from the screen.

Jongin bites into his pizza. It tastes soft and cold and all sorts of perfect. “Why? I thought he’s stopped trying to get in Minseok’s pants since, like, last month?”

Zitao shrugs. “No idea. I think he’s going after Yixing this time. Or maybe Lu Han. I don’t know. Those two are practically joined at the hip it’s almost impossible to find out whom he’s ogling at. Why do you always expect me to know?”

“I was just asking.” Jongin stretches to kick Zitao’s thigh with a foot, sock dangling precariously at the toes, but the doorbell rings then, and Zitao is gone in a flash. When it comes to Sehun, they’ve learned the hard way that it’s best to answer the door as soon as possible if they don’t want the bell to go on forever.

“Did y’all start without me?” Sehun accuses once he’s let in, brushing past Zitao and going straight for the pizza before shoving Jongin’s legs away so he can drop himself on the couch. Jongin plops his legs on Sehun’s lap. Zitao resumes his spot on the floor.

“What took you so long?” Jongin bites into his pizza again. He briefly wonders how cold, leftover pizza can taste this amazing. It might as well be some kind of remedy, some high-grade ancient medicine that comes second only to healer extraordinaire Zhang Yixing’s skills. Speaking of which… “Do you have a crush on Yixing?”

“Are you seeing Jongdae?” This grabs Zitao’s attention. “I saw him hug you and-”

“You’ve never told me he hugged you,” Zitao interjects, looking offended.

“I’m not seeing Jongdae,” bemoans Jongin. “I wish I was, though.”

At least Zitao has the heart to look apologetic. Sehun just looks confused, his brows furrowed and his mouth doing some weird thing that isn’t the slightest of concern. “What was the hug for then?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Jongin whines into the couch, pressing his face into the upholstery, although he pulls away almost immediately, nose scrunched. It smells horrible. “I left him in the rain!” Sehun looks unimpressed. Zitao looks affronted. Jongin sighs. It’s not like he’s proud of it or anything. “But the hug was really nice,” he admits, wiping his fingers on the couch as he gets up to a sitting position, still feeling somewhat miserable.

“You’re not helping yourself,” Sehun says, noisily munching on his pizza. He doesn’t pull away when Jongin settles to lean against him, his head on his shoulder. In all honesty, Sehun feels too bony and his shoulder is too wide for it to be at all comfortable, but Jongin can have this for now.

“Like you’re helping me.” Jongin frowns at the mother snake and her newborn babies on the television. The screen goes through some transition then, showing the intro of the next show.

“Dude, I’m letting you sulk on my shoulder. If that’s not extra considerate best friend behaviour, I don’t know what is.”

Jongin sighs sorrowfully. He's been doing that a lot recently. “Can you turn back time for me? Just this once? I promise I won’t fuck it up, this time.”

It takes a moment for Zitao to realise that the question is directed at him. “You know it doesn’t work that way,” he tells Jongin, smiling sweetly as he squeezes himself between Jongin and the armrest.

Unlike teleportation, time control involves none of the transfer of matter or energy that Jongin has somewhat mastered, and however elaborately Zitao has tried to explain it to him, that it involves only the possessor’s mind and the fourth dimension and absolutely does not cover “time travel” at all, Jongin refuses to acknowledge it all.

“Selfish shit,” Sehun comments briefly, not nearly as serious as the look on his face.

“Yeah, whatever,” Zitao says, sounding carefree. “Now shut up so we can all watch this in peace.”

As fellow dog owners, they can all agree with one another on how hard it is to be separated from their babies for long periods at a time. For all the stoic-faced noodle that he is, Sehun was actually the one who suggested that they start hanging out at Zitao’s to watch the weekly documentary on service dogs together because they need the emotional support.

“I miss Vivi,” sighs Sehun, leaning his head atop Jongin’s.

Zitao drops his weight on Jongin, blinking lazily at the television screen. “I miss Candy.”

Jongin misses Monggu, Jjanggu and Jjangah, too, but right now, he’s also preoccupied with something else that doesn’t involve his dogs, and Sehun and Zitao aren’t helping. He needs to talk to someone else.

 

 

Someone else comes in the form of Do Kyungsoo, Jongin’s ever so understanding roommate.

Kyungsoo is pulling out a cup of blueberry yoghurt from the fridge when Jongin arrives at their shared unit. He flops down beside Kyungsoo on the dining table, making a show of pressing his face to the table top so Kyungsoo knows how pathetic he is.

“What is it this time?” A sputter and a crackle as Kyungsoo peels the aluminium lid off the cup.

Jongin peers up at Kyungsoo through his fringe. He looks good even from this dreadful angle. Jongin is certain Jongdae can work the angle even better.

“Kim Jongdae,” he whines, pouting into the cold surface of the table.

Kyungsoo only looks marginally concerned. Jongin frowns.

“What about Jongdae?” Kyungsoo asks, licking excess yoghurt off the lid. A pause, then, “Jongdae’s talked to me about you.”

Jongin perks up. “He did?” Oh. Right. Sometimes he forgets that Kyungsoo shares a class with Jongdae.

And then he remembers all his encounters with Jongdae so far, how Jongdae must think of him as some freak, and that’s all it takes for him to pout into the table sulkily.

Kyungsoo chucks the lid into the bin, reaches over to pat Jongin on the head soothingly. “What’s wrong?”

Jongin looks up at Kyungsoo. He’s so frustrated at himself he feels like crying. “I like him, Kyungsoo.”

It takes Kyungsoo a while to process this, and after a long, nerving pause, he asks, “Jongdae?” Kyungsoo’s face twists into something that looks like the subtlest of bewilderment. “You like- why-”

Jongin wants to scream. Jongin does scream. “That’s not the point! It’s not _why_ I like him or why it’s _him_.” He flails his arms. “It’s- the problem is that I’ve been trying to talk to him about this but I _can’t_ because he’s so perfect and I’m, well, _me_ and he must hate me now because I’m a weirdo who can’t even control my powers and runs away from conversations when I was the one who wanted to talk! And he’s wasted so much of his time just watching me _try_ to get the words out, but I _can’t_.”

The silence that follows makes Jongin feel uncomfortable, even if just a tiny bit, as Kyungsoo scoops yoghurt into his mouth with the tiny plastic spoon.

Kyungsoo is sporting one of those unreadable expressions Jongin’s never been able to interpret (only Baekhyun knows how to, really) as he looks down at him. He resumes patting Jongin’s head. It calms him a bit. “I don’t think he hates you.”

Jongin blinks. “You don’t?”

Sure, Zitao may have said the same thing, but there’s always something about Kyungsoo, this aura of trustworthiness, almost like Lu Han’s, (Jongin isn’t close with Lu Han by any means, but he trusts him, and would definitely shut his mouth about where Lu Han had hidden the body if anything that extreme were to ever happen. That’s just how immensely he exudes trustworthiness) just less enthusiastic, more subdued. Somehow, Jongin believes him.

Kyungsoo nods. “I think you two need to talk.”

“You know I’m not good at that,” Jongin whines, slumping further on the table top, one of his stretched out arms almost knocking Kyungsoo’s yoghurt cup.

Kyungsoo retreats his hand from where it’s buried in Jongin’s hair to nurse his yoghurt. Jongin wants it back but also doesn’t want to interfere between Kyungsoo and his yoghurt.

“Well. There’s always body language, or stuff like that,” Kyungsoo suggests, halting only to slurp at the remaining yoghurt bits left in his cup. “Just don’t ever do it on me, though. I suffer enough of Chanyeol talking and moving his body parts all at the same time it’s starting to make me nauseous.”

That makes Jongin smile, loosens the burden a little.

“So just... communicate. With Jongdae.” Kyungsoo gets up to throw his empty cup into the bin, sauntering away from Jongin’s line of vision and presumably into the kitchenette. “Oh, and Baekhyun will be staying over tonight, so you might want to, you know.”

Jongin grunts. Of course he _knows_. Baekhyun staying over means Jongin crashing at Sehun and Chanyeol’s place so he can sleep on their couch, if he doesn’t want to hear certain… _sounds_ at night.

Plus, he’s pretty sure they’ve done something just yesterday, only briefly interrupted by Jongin’s sudden arrival. How often do they even- Jongin pointedly decides he doesn’t want to know.

“Why can’t he just move in or something?” He’s not exactly suggesting Baekhyun to actually move in, but he knows Kyungsoo gets the point.

“Then you two can switch.”

Jongin turns to shoot a baleful look at Kyungsoo, though really, he can never wholeheartedly glare at someone as caring and understanding as Kyungsoo. Jongin owes him too much. “I don’t want to share a room with Junmyeon. He never cleans.”

“Then you’ll just have to bear with us,” Kyungsoo shrugs, shooting Jongin an apologetic look, as he makes his way to the tiny living room.

Kyungsoo flops on the couch. Jongin pouts, feeling only a little affronted, but gets up and makes his way to join Kyungsoo, anyway, because Kyungsoo is putting on Kingsman and there is no way Jongin’s ever missing that.

 

 

Sehun leans back on his seat, lets himself sink comfortably into the plush armchair. It’s an old one, and the only one they have in their unit, too. Chanyeol had brought it along when he’d moved out of his old studio apartment, and Sehun is silently thankful for it.

He takes a huge gulp from his bottle of coke as he continues to scroll through the list of clothing items he can purchase for his in-game character. He has been saving for quite a while just for this, so it’s important that he think thoroughly and choose strategically.

Thinking is hard when Jongin is sighing every other second.

It’s loud and heavy and distracting. It’s been so for the past five minutes since Sehun let Jongin in, looking no better than he had when they met earlier that noon. Sehun pulls his feet off the coffee table and sits up so he can look at Jongin fully, as far as fully goes seeing as Jongin only has the upper half of his face and a tuft of hair peeking out from where he’d draped Sehun’s spare blanket over himself.

Sehun just wants to play his game in peace. But then again, there’s a rational reason to why Jongin is here on Sehun and Chanyeol’s couch instead of his own bed in his own unit. He just wants to sleep in peace.

His incessant sighs, though, Sehun is sure, has absolutely nothing to do with Baekhyun and Kyungsoo’s nightly escapades.

“You okay?” Sehun asks, attempting to toe at Jongin, though he only barely succeeds in brushing his foot against the side of the couch.

Jongin doesn’t answer, but Sehun knows that he’s still awake; he can see Jongin’s fingers, fiddling with the seam of his blanket agitatedly.

“You want some noodles?” Sehun offers. He’s locked his phone and put it away because at the end of the day, Jongin’s happiness always comes before his in-game character’s well-being. “Hot chocolate? It’s Chanyeol’s, but he won’t mind.”

Chanyeol isn’t even home. He has told Sehun earlier that he’ll be back late because he has to interview for some cafe or something. It doesn’t matter. Chanyeol won’t mind. Jongin is worth more than a sachet of hot chocolate mix.

“Hot chocolate,” murmurs Jongin from under the blanket, body curled on the couch and his voice small, a little sad.

Sehun isn’t Zitao. Sehun isn’t the type to express his feelings so openly, preferring to keep it all to a minimum, down to only what’s necessary. But Jongin is his friend. Jongin is a friend Sehun treasures, and he cares. It’s stupid and nobody even asked for Sehun’s help but Jongin is a mess and Sehun _cares_.

Sehun makes hot chocolate for Jongin. He rarely ever makes hot chocolate because it’s a hot drink and Sehun hates things that scald his lips and burn his tongue but he makes it anyway because it’s Jongin – Jongin who was silly (and desperately broke) enough to agree with Sehun’s idea to get convenience store bought knickknacks for Chanyeol’s birthday even when Chanyeol had specifically mentioned that he needed a capo for his guitar, Jongin who had never once laughed at Sehun’s retainer lisp even when everybody else did at one point or another, Jongin who forewent the first showing of Kingsman because Sehun’s favourite dance crew was in town and Sehun had had no one to go with.

Sehun ponders quietly as Jongin curls into himself in the couch, blanket wrapped around him and a mug of hot chocolate in hand.

It’s the least that Sehun can do.

 

-

 

“Hyung, are you dating Jongin?”

Jongdae looks up from where he’s been brooding over his essay for meteorology class, frown deepening. “What?”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“Now that sounds an awful lot like you trying to hit on me,” Jongdae says, cocking an eyebrow at Sehun who just looks ridiculous, his face a confused mix of pensive and prying.

“Do you like Jongin?”

Now, this is getting interesting.

Jongdae leans back on his seat, pretends to mull over it. The legs of his chair scratch against the flooring, wavering the silence that envelopes the library. “He’s cute,” he says vaguely, shrugging.

Sehun merely tilts his head at the ambiguous answer. And then he’s leaning in, staring Jongdae in the eyes as he asks, not any quieter than his previous questions, “Hyung, do you know that Jongin likes you?”

Now this, Jongdae wasn’t expecting at all.

“What?”

“I’m borrowing this,” Sehun states, redundantly, seeing as he’s already pulling Jongdae’s essay to his side of the desk.

Jongdae stares as Sehun scans over his paper leisurely, mind possibly already working to find synonyms and the many different ways with which he can alter the structure of Jongdae’s sentences. Really, if Sehun’s just going to spend the rest of semester practically copying off Jongdae’s works while still managing to get away with it, he might as well go for the communications field instead.

“Sehun.”

Sehun hums distractedly, lower lip jutting out as he touches the tip of his pen to his sheet, blank aside for his name.

“Sehun, are you sure you’re supposed to be telling me that?”

Sehun sighs, like Jongdae is exasperating him. _The nerve_. Jongdae would have smacked him on the head if he wasn’t so caught off-guard still.

“Do you rather Jongin tell you himself?” Jongdae’s about to tell him that yes, of course he does, but an impudent look from Sehun promptly shuts him up. “Sure, then forget everything I’ve just said and you can wait for however long it takes for him to gather the courage to finally confess. Maybe five years.” He adds, as an afterthought, “Four and a half if you’re lucky.”

Jongdae doesn’t give him an answer to that, and Sehun seems not in the least bothered by it, already turning back to his essay.

If it were Chanyeol or Baekhyun, Jongdae wouldn’t have given it a second thought, would have brushed it off as a joke. But this is Sehun. And sure, Sehun jokes too sometimes, but he’s never blatant about it and gets all giggly and draws it out so the fun lasts longer.

This, though, is Sehun being frank. Completely, unabashedly frank that it makes Jongdae think.

Jongin inadvertently teleporting somewhere else whenever he’s around Jongdae, Minseok’s knowing look, Lu Han’s elaborate explanation, Jongdae’s conclusion about Jongin being scared – and it didn’t make sense, not at first, because Jongdae was wrong. Jongin’s _not_ scared of him.

And it all makes sense.

 

-

 

Jongdae thought nothing could ever be worse than getting drenched in the rain.

Jongdae was, and is, in fact, very wrong.

Now, Jongdae sits at the cafeteria, alone at the far corner, because he has a whole meal of spaghetti bolognese on his fucking lap – sauce smeared on his jeans, spaghetti sticking onto the hem of his shirt. Jongdae really thought nothing can ever be worse than getting drenched in the rain, except that he just has to make the stupid decision of running into Jongin while Jongin is holding up a tray of newly purchased spaghetti bolognese. All that is needed is for Jongin to panic the second he notices Jongdae and abruptly teleport somewhere else like he always does, the same time the tray is thrown toward Jongdae in what might be the most embarrassing incident that has ever happened to Jongdae’s life.

A part of Jongdae insists that this is all Sehun’s fault for spilling the beans right the day before Jongin has spaghetti bolognese for lunch.

“So. You and Jongin, huh?” booms in the very distinctive voice of Park Chanyeol, obviously in the most inappropriate of times, as he proceeds to take the empty seat beside Jongdae, minutes later.

“Don’t,” Jongdae warns him. That seems to do the trick to shut Chanyeol up, although he does look like he’s contemplating on which thing Jongdae is telling him not to talk about – Jongin, or the strands of spaghetti and mess of bolognese sauce on Jongdae’s crotch.

Good thing Chanyeol chooses not to voice anything out loud at all, because Jongdae is seriously considering smacking Chanyeol’s face right onto his crotch, for practical cleaning.

 

-

 

Opposites attract. That’s what they say.

Jongin reckons that’s how he works with Sehun. Jongin likes to cram for finals, snacking on apples and filling his system with lots of water to pull an all-nighter because he’s not the coffee type. Sehun likes to keep it less stressful. He actually listens to the professor’s lectures and sets an hour aside everyday so he has more than enough time to prepare.

Sehun wears hats and sunglasses as fashion accessories even if he’s only going to class or the convenience store across campus because they accentuate his chiseled face. Jongin likes to keep it simple, throw on a comfortable t-shirt or a sweatshirt if the weather calls for it.

Really, the only similar thing he shares with Sehun is their love for dogs.

And sometimes, it makes Jongin seethe with envy, the fact that Jongin always sulks at his friends and is too cowardice to act things out whereas Sehun never really explicitly mentions his crush to anyone but always seems like he has the never-ending courage to ask them out.

Jongin pouts, not caring that he must look like some petulant child, as Yixing flashes a coy dimple at Sehun who’s smiling so brightly his eyes turn to crescents. Of course it’s Yixing. _Of course_ Sehun has a crush on Zhang fucking Yixing, and Jongin should have guessed that when Sehun asked him if he could accompany Jongin to his psychology class.

Yixing is in Jongin’s psychology class. Sehun likes Yixing. God damn it.

It’s not like Jongin isn’t happy for Sehun. Jongin _is_ happy for Sehun, especially when Sehun’s smiling like he’s some high wattage LED light bulb and Yixing is the voltage that keeps him glowing. Sehun rarely ever conveys his true feelings in his facial expressions and Jongin wants so much for Sehun to be genuinely happy, but the bitter tug at his chest is inescapable, that faint tinge of jealousy that prods at him as Yixing agrees to a first date and Sehun has never looked happier.

Jongin thinks of kitten lips and long lashes and wrinkle lines that decorate a handsome smiling face, and sinks in his seat.

 

-

 

The next time Jongin sees Jongdae, he runs.

He doesn’t even wait for Jongdae to spot him. He just runs, runs before Jongdae can go after him and do anything that might endanger both of their lives, like clinging onto Jongin until Jongin teleports them somewhere entirely unsafe like the lion’s den he saw at the national zoo two summers ago.

Jongin runs, leaving a confused Zitao at their initial resting spot under the biggest tree at the quadrangle. Jongin runs until he finds a more secluded area where he can calm himself down, settle the maddening thump in his chest, before he teleports back to his room.

Zitao arrives ten minutes later to find Jongin slumped across the couch, Kyungsoo’s cup of popcorn chicken in one hand.

“My blood pump was beating at 300 beats per minute,” Jongin reasons, mouth full of popcorn chicken, as Zitao snatches a can of coke from the tiny fridge and settles on the remaining empty space.

Beside him, Kyungsoo’s face contorts. “Your _what_?”

“There’s only one organ in our body that pumps blood,” Jongin states, as a matter-of-factly.

“Of course. Because everyone knows their fucking biology.”

“His heart, Kyungsoo,” clarifies Zitao kindly from Jongin’s other side. “His heart was beating at thrice the normal rate. In simple human words, he’s so in love it’s disgusting.”

Jongin frowns at Zitao. “It’s not disgusting.”

When he turns to face Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo is staring down at the red straw poking out of his soda cup. “I still don’t understand why it has to be Jongdae. I mean, he’s nice and all, but,” a brief halt as he turns to face Jongin, then, “why would anyone want to kiss him? Or hold his hand in a romantic way, or sigh dreamily while thinking of him?” Kyungsoo visibly shudders. “He’s... a weird choice to fall in love with.”

“Baekhyun is your boyfriend,” Jongin counters, staring at Kyungsoo calmly, as Kyungsoo stares back at him and Zitao sips at his coke tranquilly. Jongin should be a little pissed, should be feeling offended because Kyungsoo might have just stomped on his preference in the male population and announced it ridiculous.

But Jongin reckons, Kyungsoo might also be correct. Granted, Jongin doesn’t understand why it has to be Jongdae, either, out of all people. It could have been someone less attractive, for instance. That would have been great. Or someone less stunningly adorable, less charmingly awkward, less distractingly perfect. Less making Jongin feel like a useless, gaping guppy whenever his crush is around.

“Good point,” Kyungsoo says.

Jongin sighs, looks down at Kyungsoo’s red straw, then back at his popcorn chickens, and offers the snack to Kyungsoo. “Chicken?”

 

-

 

“I’m pretty sure Jongin likes you.”

Jongdae looks up to find Kyungsoo staring at him over the assignment they’re supposed to be doing. Kyungsoo’s paper is still very much blank. Jongdae should really consider sitting beside someone more productive, like Minseok or Sehun.

“Like, in a romantic way. Where he stares at you and sees blooming flowers, or singing angels, or-”

“What’s your answer for number seven?”

“Jongdae, you gotta _listen_ to me.”

Jongdae sighs, lowly. “What?”

“This is all very confusing.”

“What is? The Ethics of Elemental Execution? Want me to tutor you on it?” Jongdae offers, turning back to his paper. He briefly considers skipping the drama series he’s planning to binge on in favour of doing better in class. Or, yeah, maybe not.

“I still don’t get why Jongin likes you.”

“A lot of people find it very tough not to like me.”

Kyungsoo is quiet for a moment, flipping over his paper as Jongdae waits patiently, before he says, “You should try talking to him. Give him a chance. He really likes you.”

Jongdae doesn’t know what he was expecting. “Yeah. So Sehun’s told me. And, well, I don’t know, Kyungsoo. Maybe if he stops teleporting away whenever I try to talk to him, I can do that, you know? That bit where I try to talk to him, give him a chance, all that shit. And the part where he _listens_? I don’t know, man. It’s all pretty fucking confusing to me, too.”

The sigh that Kyungsoo lets out is patient, measured. “Jongdae.”

Jongdae shades in D for question number eleven, and flips to the second page.

“Jongdae-”

“ _What_ , Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo turns with huge, startled eyes at him, staring at Jongdae in surprise, before he catches himself, masks it with practiced ease. Jongdae isn’t one to get angry so easily, especially not when it’s Kyungsoo, but really, this thing about Jongin’s (and his own) friends ganging up on him one by one is getting really suffocatingly frustrating.

“Jongin is,” Kyungsoo starts, taking his time.

Jongdae tries to prompt him with a subtle raise of a brow, but he doesn’t push, because he is doing the thing where he _gives Kyungsoo time_. To think, to phrase, to consider. Jongdae is _trying_. It’s just that sometimes he feels like he’s the only one who is.

Kyungsoo sneaks a glance up at their professor who’s staring down at his laptop focusedly, before turning to Jongdae. “Sometimes Jongin is a nervous wreck. As in, a _nervous_ , _wreck_. He’s either that, or completely calm waters. There’s no inbetween. Jongin- Jongin gets really nervous, Jongdae. And when he does, he can’t- _has no_ control over it. So you gotta-”

“So I gotta control it for him? Who do you think-”

“ _Yes_ ,” Kyungsoo hisses, keeping his voice low as he roughly scribbles an answer down. “Yes, Jongdae.” Then, a little softer, but no less firm, “Please. If you- Jongdae, do you like Jongin?”

The pause that follows nags at Jongdae like a lose screw that yearns to be fitted back into place. “I do.”

“Then do it. If you like Jongin, too, even if just a little bit. Yes,” Kyungsoo says, not unkindly, but tone firm with finality, turning back to his paper and not looking up again.

Jongdae turns back to his own paper. Matches questions with answers. Considers.

 

-

 

Jongdae and Chanyeol crash at Baekhyun’s place for Mario Kart on Saturday morning. Junmyeon is out because he has some lame club meeting to attend, but his traces are everywhere, mostly in the forms of dirty laundry and unwashed dishes in the sink. Kyungsoo is here, too, because he takes it his duty to sit on Baekhyun’s lap for the entire morning, throughout all the games. Baekhyun says it’s Kyungsoo’s way of marking his territory. Kyungsoo says Baekhyun drools in his sleep and that his hair reeks whenever he goes too long without washing it, which, disgustingly enough, happens quite often.

Baekhyun beats Chanyeol on the first round. Baekhyun beats Jongdae on the second. Chanyeol beats Baekhyun on the third because Kyungsoo insists Baekhyun has his breakfast even if he’s just feeding him crappy instant sausages. On the fourth round, Baekhyun gets sauce on his fingers because he never keeps still and, “Kyungsoo, you’re heavy.” Kyungsoo pinches Baekhyun on the side. Jongdae thinks of that one time Baekhyun has to walk on crutches but still takes the escalator over the elevator because he’s inconvenient like that, and throws a tissue paper at Baekhyun’s general direction because Jongdae is a good friend.

Chanyeol leaves at eleven because Sehun has to leave their unit soon (probably for a date with Yixing) and tends to forget to lock the door. Kyungsoo fixes Jongdae with a look as Baekhyun finishes the rest of his sausages. Baekhyun kicks Jongdae out shortly after, for obvious reasons, though Jongdae is more than a hundred percent sure that Baekhyun and Kyungsoo have two highly contrasting reasons for that; Kyungsoo tells Jongdae firmly, “Make sure you see Jongin today,” while Baekhyun gets busy trying to rid Kyungsoo of his shirt.

Jongdae finds Jongin at the cafeteria, frowning up at the menu board overhead.

The frown is replaced by an increasingly startled face as Jongin takes notice of Jongdae. Jongdae doesn’t stop in his track. He walks up to Jongin, advances toward him with long, confident strides, waits for that hint of refusal on Jongin’s face. It doesn’t happen. So Jongdae closes the gap between them as Jongin stands rooted to the ground, unmoving, eyes as wide as they’re innocent and lips as plush as something Jongdae would very much like to kiss.

Everything happens too fast.

Jongdae hugs Jongin, feels Jongin go rigid in his arms, before everything flashes black before him.

 

 

Jongin has never actually fully understood what his professor meant with his lectures about losing control and having your power control you instead, but right now, with Jongdae so close and warm and evident in his grip, Jongin thinks he knows. He can feel his heart beating fast and loud in his chest, like it’s trying to jump out of his ribs, and his skin tingling and prickling and smarting because it’s all too much, this pounding in his chest, and he needs to _go_ , to _run_ , shove the stimuli away and escape to a safer place because it’s all too maddening for him to take.

But Jongin has had enough of running away. His body is insisting him to do otherwise, but Jongin wants- _Jongin_ wants to stay. There’s suddenly too much teleporting going on Jongin doesn’t even bother taking note of where they are, but he doesn’t let go of Jongdae either, gripping tight to the front of Jongdae’s shirt to keep him close.

Jongin nearly panics when Jongdae releases an arm from where it’s wrapped around his back, and there’s a moment of Jongin tightening his grip in Jongdae’s shirt because maintaining physical contact is crucial, but the sudden, unexpected warmth that settles on his cheek keeps him on the ground. Jongdae guides him, with a gentle hand on his face, until their eyes meet.

It’s all too much; Jongin’s never been good at maintaining eye contact with anyone that isn’t Kyungsoo or Sehun or his sisters, and all this teleporting is draining his energy and making him a little dizzy, but Jongdae doesn’t let him tear his gaze away, his other hand coming up to rest on Jongin’s other cheek until he has no choice but to look.

“Look at me,” Jongdae tells him – children squealing joyfully as they glide down the slides at the large park just across campus – “Jongin! Look at me.”

Jongin can only hear Jongdae’s voice – striking against the silence of the library at the mathematics department and pure silvery against the orchestra playing behind them at the main function hall – and they’re so, so close Jongin can see the individual strands of Jongdae’s beautiful long lashes and the beauty spot on his left brow.

The beat in Jongin’s heart is almost deafening – louder than the triumphant cheer as one of the teams scores a goal at the football field – and Jongin almost stumbles when Jongdae releases his face only to grab his hands in his, his fingers wrapped around Jongin’s wrists determinedly. Jongin is _this_ close from breaking away. He needs calm and to be away from this madness that only jumbles his thoughts even further – definitely not the sort of boisterous atmosphere that the bustling hallway in the life sciences building gives – but then Jongdae does this… _thing_.

His thumbs are pressed to Jongin’s pulse points on his wrists, something sparks, not visibly but Jongin can feel it prickle against his skin – they’re at Sehun and Chanyeol’s unit, and then the empty room Jongin takes his psychology classes in – and something flows in him starting from his left hand, tugging at his _heart_ and out his right. Jongin can _feel_ it, the pressure of Jongdae’s thumbs on his skin and the current that dashes through him, fast as lightning, as they maintain eye contact still, Jongdae’s eyes bright and beautiful as Jongin drowns in them.

Jongin thinks he’s going crazy, that Jongdae’s eyes are still on him but his face is getting closer, his breath hotter against Jongin’s cheeks, but he’s not. The press of Jongdae’s lips against his is _real_ , soft and brief but it’s _there_ , a touch of his mouth that leaves Jongin dumbfounded, that would have left him dumbstruck if he wasn’t already.

The thumping in his chest slows down rapidly, his mind isn’t trying to make him escape anymore, and he’s stopped teleporting aimlessly. It’s as if Jongdae is controlling the beating of his heart, pacing it, _taming_ it.

It’s… calming.

Jongin only comes to his senses when Jongdae pulls away, releasing Jongin’s hands from his grip and stepping back for a breather.

“Where are we?” he asks, looking around.

Jongin knows exactly where they are. A particular teleportation route simplifies itself with the frequency in which Jongin’s visited its respective destination, and the route Jongdae and he took to this one was too familiar and easy for him to be mistaking it.

“My room,” Jongin answers, faintly rubbing at the lingering warmth of Jongdae’s fingers on his wrists. His lips are still tingling from the kiss.

There’s a pile of dirty laundry to the side and Jongin’s desk (and bed) is a mess of unfinished assignments. Jongdae doesn’t seem like he minds, though, barely glancing past them as he takes in his surrounding.

_What was the hug for then_ , Jongin’s mind supplies helpfully, in a voice that is distinctively Sehun’s.

“What was the hug for?”

Jongdae turns to face him, a small, confused smile on his handsome face. “What?”

“The-” Clarifications are so hard. Why can’t Jongin just fall for a telepath? “At the quadrangle,” Jongin tries, fidgets with his fingers when Jongdae blinks at him. “With Sehun. And Chanyeol.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Jongdae sighs, sounding regretful. “Shouldn’t have done that, don’t you think? Then I wouldn’t have had to get all wet and soaked in the rain.”

Jongin blinks, and wilts. “I’m sorry. For the spaghetti, too, I’m sorry.” He did genuinely feel bad about those, still _does_ feel bad about those, but Jongdae has never brought any of those up, and really, Jongdae’s smile tends to make Jongin forget about everything, like proper breathing technique and apologising.

Jongdae laughs then, the melodious sound of it ringing throughout Jongin’s small bedroom and catching him off-guard. Jongin really needs to learn how to apologise properly, he thinks, and is surely not expecting the kind grin on Jongdae’s face when he looks up.

“Kidding,” Jongdae tells him, smiling cheerfully like he’s won something. Probably Jongin’s heart. Definitely Jongin’s heart. “The hug was for,” he muses, “security matters, I guess. Couldn’t let you escape another time.”

Oh.

Jongin can feel the disappointment that hits him, this faint, dull ache in his chest. He tries not to show it, though, tries not to appear like he was expecting something else, something _more_ , not when Jongdae is carefully staring at him like this, like he’s studying him. Jongin wishes maybe it could have meant something, anything, like maybe Jongdae had wanted to hug him because Jongin was warm, just like how Jongdae was warm and comfortable when Jongin had hugged him and held him close with a tight grip on his shirt.

Jongin grips at the headboard of his bed, something to keep him from collapsing down and curling in the sheets because he’s feeling miserable again. He needs Zitao, or Kyungsoo. Preferably Kyungsoo because he’s better at petting Jongin’s hair compared to Zitao who gets distracted so easily. Or Sehun. Sehun holds his hand and lets him sleep in his bed and doesn’t prod or question him incessantly when he knows Jongin just wants the quiet.

Or maybe his dogs. God, he misses his dogs so much.

“The... kiss, too?” Jongin asks, hesitantly.

Jongdae smiles sweetly, like he’s been waiting for Jongin to ask. He has a really handsome smile. So perfect. Jongin is fucking screwed. Jongdae shrugs. “I wanted to kiss you.”

“You-” _Wanted_ to kiss Jongin? “Why?”

Jongdae is still smiling, the lines on his face crinkling slightly and the ends of his mouth curled up in an almost feline way, and it’s so cute. “Because I like you.”

Jongin has never been so nonplussed in his whole life.

He stands there, rooted to the ground, unable to think or act or respond like how a normal person should in a two-way conversation.

“God damn it, Jongin, just- just stop thinking, for once,” Jongdae lets out, a bit harshly, that it makes Jongin tighten his grip at the headboard of his bed instinctively.

There’s a lot of things going on in Jongin’s mind, things he has to think through, things he can’t seem to think through, things that make him-

“I’m sorry,” Jongin blurts out.

That seems to pull something inside Jongdae, as Jongin catches his eyes widen, his shoulders relaxing, his facial expression softening. “I- no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- not like that.” He waves a hand dismissively, shakes his head, seems to ponder on something, then proceeds to advance toward Jongin.

_Advance_ toward _Jongin_.

And it’s like the cycle is repeating all over again; Jongin can feel his heartbeat increasing rapidly as Jongdae closes the distance between them, except now Jongdae is fast to catch his hands – both the one gripping onto the headboard and the other – his thumbs catching on the pulsepoints on Jongin’s wrists.

“Don’t think. Whatever it is, just look at me.” That’s not hard when Jongin has a view full of Jongdae’s face, but it _is_ hard when Jongdae licks his lips and Jongin’s eyes can’t seem to focus on anything except for narrowing in on the slide of Jongdae’s tongue.

If Jongdae notices, he doesn’t mention it.

“You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to,” Jongdae says softly, like he’s humming a tune, the tone of his voice as warm as the press of his skin on Jongin’s wrists. “But do something. Please.” And Jongdae is so close, _so_ close that Jongin can see the way his lower lashes rest on his cheekbones, feel the ghost of his breath against Jongin’s cheeks. “What do you want?”

Jongin makes a sound at the back of his throat, manages to say, “I-”

“Hm?” Jongdae prompts, patiently. This time, when Jongin glances down at Jongdae’s mouth, Jongdae catches it, narrows in so he doesn’t miss. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“I-”

Jongin wants to kiss Jongdae.

“Jongin?”

Jongin _wants_ to kiss Jongdae.

Jongin almost panics when Jongdae releases his grip on Jongin’s wrists, his pulse accelerating almost instantly, but the panic is quickly replaced by an entirely different thing when Jongdae cups Jongin’s face in his and advances until they’re only inches apart. A hair’s breadth away.

Jongdae kisses Jongin.

This one is different from the first. This one is deeper, sweeter, longer, a more lingering warmth that presses softly against Jongin’s lips and makes him crave for more. This one has Jongin curling in almost immediately, yielding in until he’s pressed against Jongdae’s front, until Jongdae is pulling him in with a hand on his nape. This one has Jongin whimpering into the kiss as Jongdae sucks his bottom lip and nips at it, licks it soothingly. This one is lovely and soft and cozy and hot and all sorts of breathtaking as Jongin grips tightly onto the side of Jongdae’s shirt, his arms, kissing back.

“I think you owe Sehun and Kyungsoo big time. Sehun for spilling the beans, and Kyungsoo for knocking some sense in my head,” Jongdae says after they pull away, an entertained lilt to his tone as he smiles sweetly at Jongin and Jongin has never been so astonished. A little late, Jongin registers Jongdae’s words and frowns in question, but Jongdae doesn’t elaborate. “So now what?” he asks instead, fingers skittering over Jongin’s sides. It’s a really nice feeling, something Jongin has yet gotten used to, but definitely really nice.

Everything is new, but definitely nice. That’s one thing Jongin is sure of.

Jongin checks the clock on the desk, and remembers that he hasn’t had lunch. “Have you had lunch?”

Jongdae seems to perk up at that. “Lunch sounds great.”

He pulls Jongin toward the door, but Jongin stops him. When Jongdae turns to him with a questioning look, Jongin offers, hesitantly, “I can teleport us there, if you want.”

Jongin can’t guarantee that it’ll be a hundred percent safe and accurate now that he has to travel with the very person who makes his heart go wild and his powers haywire, but he can try. They can try.

In an instant, the smile is back on Jongdae’s face again, and this time, when he wraps his arms around Jongin in a warm, enveloping hug, Jongin breathes in vanilla and closes his eyes with the front of Jongdae’s shirt held tightly in his grip.

 

 

“I’ve got the milk. It’s in the fridge,” is Minseok’s greeting when Jongdae gets back home.

“Oh,” Jongdae exclaims, smiling, laughing, feeling all around happy. “Thank you,” he tells Minseok, flashing Minseok a huge grin from across the living room.

Minseok lowers his book down to have a proper look at Jongdae.

“What?” Jongdae asks, still smiling, still feeling extremely jolly. It’s a god damn amazing day.

“You look happy,” Minseok says, the slightest hint of confusion on his face.

Jongdae laughs. “I’m always happy.”

“No. I mean, yes, you are, but- wait.” Minseok narrows his eyes at Jongdae, tilts his head to the side characteristically. “Did Jongin...”

“Yes. Yes, he did.”

Minseok seems a little startled for a moment, before he gathers himself, and nods, vaguely. “Figures.”

Jongdae’s grin widens. “Right back at you, brother.”

 

-

 

“Were you the one who told Jongdae that I like him?” Jongin asks, as they lean against the clear glass of the convenience store, coned ice cream in hand.

Sehun turns to face him, looks down at his own ice cream, shrugs.

“You smart shit. Now i feel like I actually owe you something,” Jongin admits, only half joking.

“Bubble tea,” Sehun says, resolutely, leaving no space for argument. “You can pay me back with bubble tea.”

Jongin bites into his ice cream. “For the hot chocolate?”

“Nah, that’s Chanyeol. I’ve got nothing to do with that,” Sehun says, smiling good-naturedly at Jongin as he pushes himself from the glass wall, slinging an arm around Jongin’s shoulders. “Come on, you’ve got a large-sized cup of chocolate bubble tea to buy. Full sugar, less ice.”

Jongin snickers. He’s pretty sure having bubble tea and ice cream consecutively isn’t healthy, especially knowing how sweet Sehun likes his drink. He’s also pretty sure that this is merely formalities rather than Sehun actually wanting Jongin to pay him back.

He whacks Sehun on the side lightly, but follows suit, anyway, easily falling into step with him. “You prick.”

 

 

Jongin watches as Baekhyun gets comfortable with Kyungsoo, wriggling closer until Kyungsoo stops him with an arm around his waist.

Jongin watches as Kyungsoo picks pieces of cucumber out of his sushi roll before feeding the sushi to Baekhyun, Baekhyun humming delightfully in response.

Jongin watches as Baekhyun tosses the remaining plastic tray into the bin and packs his things up.

When Baekhyun gets up and heads to the front door, ready to leave, Jongin doesn’t just watch.

“You can stay!”

A few steps short from the front door, both Baekhyun and Kyungsoo turn to Jongin.

“You can stay the night,” Jongin clarifies.

A hopeful look washes over Kyungsoo’s face as Baekhyun looks over at Jongin, brows rising in question. “No,” Baekhyun says. “No, no. I’ve already made you sleep at Chanyeol’s place too many times. It’s starting to make me feel a little guilty.”

While it’s always nicer to be able to sleep on his own bed in a silent, peaceful slumber, Jongin also has to pay Kyungsoo back.

“I’ll be over for a movie at Jongdae’s later,” Jongin reasons, fingering at the hem of his shirt. “I can ask to sleep on his couch, or something.”

“Oh,” Baekhyun says, as the hopeful look on Kyungsoo’s face grows in magnitude. And then something dawns in Baekhyun, and he shoots Jongin a pointed look that Jongin instantly hates. “On his _couch_?”

Jongin wonders if paying Kyungsoo back is worth seeing the smug, knowing look on Baekhyun’s face.

“We’re not there yet!” Jongin insists, even as Kyungsoo pulls a snickering Baekhyun back into the living room. They haven’t even gone past kissing and the minimal innocent touching. Jongin decides providing that information to Baekhyun would only make this worse. “Besides, I’m not _that_ kind of person,” he corrects, voice quiet.

Jongin really isn’t _that_ kind of person. He’s not like Baekhyun or Kyungsoo, or Chanyeol who Zitao claims has a hidden stash of... something... hidden underneath his bed. Jongin doesn’t want to know what it is, or why (or how) Zitao knows.

“No, you’re not,” Baekhyun relents. “But that doesn’t mean Jongdae isn’t.”

That earns Baekhyun a smack on the back of his head. “Shut up before he changes his mind,” Kyungsoo chides, glaring half-heartedly at Baekhyun. Jongin is thankful for it, but that doesn’t help the blush already creeping up his neck.

Jongin is pretty sure he’s as red as the lipstick Chanyeol likes to steal from his sister and apply it on his own lips as a joke. He gathers his things hastily before barging out of the living room and towards the door.

“Thanks, Jongin,” is the last thing Jongin hears from a sincere Kyungsoo before he closes the door shut.

“Be safe!”

“Baekhyun, I said-”

Baekhyun expertly cuts Kyungsoo off. “Also, might want to note that Jongdae isn’t the most silent person in bed!”

Jongin is thankful no one’s in the hallway to witness him turn into a very red ripe tomato. “Stop it!”

 

 

Jongin stops by Chanyeol’s place to pay him back for the hot chocolate. He doesn’t bother explaining, simply handing the crumpled bill to a very confused Chanyeol as Sehun unhelpfully pats Chanyeol on the back like a supportive brother.

Jongin leaves before Sehun can suggest another round of bubble tea and heads for the unit Jongdae shares with Minseok. Jongin had initially planned to accommodate Jongdae’s suggestions, but then Jongdae had assured him that Jongin could decide for them whatever he wanted to do, and so Ratatouille it was – both the dish and the movie, because the restaurant two blocks down from campus has amazing French and how is it possible that anyone (Jongdae) has never watched Ratatouille?

Jongdae greets him with a charming smile on his face that makes Jongin weak on the knees. He takes the ratatouille Jongin’s bought and places it on the coffee table along with some eating utensils, briefly mentioning that Minseok is out somewhere with his friends, but doesn’t linger on the subject, quickly diverting Jongin’s attention to the empty couch across the television.

As always, the food is savoury and satisfying. As always, Jongin can’t pay full attention to whatever is happening on screen, not when Jongdae has Jongin’s hand in a firm, warm grip, head resting against Jongin’s shoulder affectionately. It’s not as bad, but it’s still there, that rapid beating in his chest whenever Jongdae does anything, things that aren’t even flattering, that faint protest in his head that screams at him to run.

But Jongin is learning to accept, to calm himself down, to understand that sometimes being nervous is good, too, to let himself be guided, to trust in Jongdae.

And Jongdae helps, a lot.

Jongdae only snuggles closer as the movie plays. He pulls Jongin in for a tiny kissing session when the credits show up. Jongin helps Jongdae wash the dishes, watches Jongdae do everyday things, smiles when Jongdae grins heartily at him.

Jongdae pulls Jongin to his room before Jongin can protest, shushing him with a kiss whenever Jongin makes the slightest indication of voicing out an alternative. Jongdae is straightforward and unabashed about a lot of things, and never fails to snatch the opportunity to make Jongin blush red by telling him that he’s cute, that, “You’re so precious, Jongin. Did you- Did that catch you off-guard? It’s true, though.”

They sleep together on Jongdae’s bed, settling down under the soft comforter, Jongdae’s front to Jongin’s back. No sex, no bringing anything to the next step, just sleeping. Jongin lets Jongdae envelope his arms around him, his thumbs pressed to the pulse points on Jongin’s wrists like a pleasant hum against his skin, a calming reassurance that Jongdae is there to keep him composed, keep him close.

 

 

(Later – that might be tomorrow, or next week, or the next month, or in ten years – Jongin will find out about a lot of things – that Jongdae doesn’t eat chicken neck, that Jongdae has a voice as melodious as Kyungsoo’s, that Jongdae has a habit of picking his nose before bed, that Jongdae loves it so much when Jongin brings him out for a dance at a night cafe. But mostly, Jongin will find himself – in Jongdae’s arms, warm and safe and _loved_. Jongin will find that, really, there’s no where else he will want to be.)

**Author's Note:**

> ~~will, who always manages to say things that are bad for my health: "hear me out a sequel drabble that is like ten years from now and then jongdae proposes and suddenly jongin POOF teleports away "god damnit i thought we were over this" ;)))))))))))))))))))))))"~~


End file.
